


Preserving Innocence

by Mysenia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, De-Aged Stiles, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Face-Fucking, Full Shift Werewolves, Hair-pulling, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Manipulation, No Underage Sex, Panic Attacks, Steter - Freeform, Wolf Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has literally been handed his doom in the very real, tiny body of one 5 year old Stiles Stilinski.</p><p>EDIT - forgot to add in a summary. *facepalms*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> So this fic was inspired by a post that nezstorm made on tumblr. It really ran away from the fluffy that I intended for it to be. I'm posting the link for the original idea below *crosses fingers that it works because I've never linked anything on here before*
> 
>  
> 
> [bxdcubes' original post](http://bxdcubes.tumblr.com/post/67869662024/no-but-guys-suddenly-i-have-this-mighty-need-for)

Peter used to love children. He was always the favourite uncle, quick with a reassuring hug or listening ears that kept all the secrets. He enjoyed taking his nieces and nephews out to the parks or for ice cream. Laura he always took to the bookstore, their thirst for knowledge vastly alike. They would scour the shelves looking for obscure titles or old favourites that needed replacing. After spending an hour or two among treasured stories and grizzly histories Peter would often take Laura out for food. Peter could see Laura’s potential in her half formed ideas and in the way she took time to ponder a question he had posed her. Peter had loved his book time with Laura.

With Derek it was quite a different relationship. Derek liked sports and while Peter valued a cunning mind he saw the wisdom in keeping a strong body. Peter helped Derek improve his technique in most sports, and had Derek school him in others. It was refreshing for Peter, letting his wolf loose in those moments so that his young nephew would not make a complete fool of him. There is just something about shared endorphin highs that brought Derek and Peter closer together. Only once did Derek approach Peter about relationship advice and after the fiasco with Paige, Peter thought it better that they stick to less personal topics of conversation. Though Peter ached to see his young nephew in pain, there was the dark part of him that was grateful the girl was no longer around. It was that dark part of him that kept him from wanting children of his own, for corruption is so easy in those innocently susceptible to persuasion.

Peter would never say he had a favourite but Cora easily fit the bill if ever he did allow himself to think on it closely. Cora liked learning and she liked athletics and she was impish to the extreme. Peter loved to egg her on only to watch gleefully, and then participate gleefully, as she masterfully turned it around so that she was egging Peter on. They were forever challenging each other, in small things and in big. Peter liked to push at Cora to see how far she could bend before snapping. Cora liked to taunt Peter, making him accidentally reveal something she wasn’t to know, only for him to remember she wasn’t his peer but his littlest niece. It both infuriated and delighted him. In Cora Peter found a kindred soul, cynical in the most brutal sense and yet wonder filled about wolf lore and legends. They spent many a day talking about existentialism, or as much as a young mind can comprehend it. Peter always left those conversations both satisfied and yearning for the day when they could finish their arguments in full. 

Peter had loved children. Peter used to look forward to spending time with his various nieces and nephews. At the end of the day though Peter was always grateful to be able to hand those children back to their parents. Too easily were the young malleable and Peter found himself all too willing to mould. When the fire burned away all those innocents is when Peter lost his love for children. His anger was built upon many things. All that potential burned up in smoke and ash. All that fragility too ever present, for theirs are the screams he hears the loudest. All that innocence torn open, for in those moments before they perished they knew the world was one of evil. Peter burns with a righteous fury about many things the fire destroyed. Those young lives were his; his to preserve, his to comfort, his to protect but also his to mould, his to bend, his to fracture and break. 

Peter never let himself compose them the way he felt they should be composed, never let himself pluck them until their tunes rang just right. Peter burns at the fact that they were taken away from him before he allowed himself to sway them. He is forever grateful that the fire tore that potential away from him. Peter hates himself for being grateful but he knows the harm he could have caused. So Peter has grown to dislike children. They pull at the darkest places of him, whispering words of destruction in a seducing tone. Begging for him to take them and turn out of them their fullest potential. Peter’s foray into helping Derek showed him that it would be better to start on the younger ones and thus Peter cannot help but rejoice that they are gone. 

When Peter meets Derek and Cora again years after the fire he feels nothing but relief that they are no longer the impressionable innocents they once were. He also viciously adores how fucked up each of them is, and that he did not have a helping hand in it. Peter will concede that killing Laura may have helped tip them over but he is not the one who filled them to the brim in the first place. He did not stain anymore pure souls even when it gnawed at him like a hunger. Though pain, hurt, and anger fill him mostly there is a small corner where his pride sits - and he is proud of himself. He fought off temptation and won. Now though Peter knows he would not be so lucky, knows that he is far too damaged to ignore the tempting call of corruption that children bring forth in him. So Peter hates children, avoids them at all costs and is extremely relieved that none of his pack are carting around littles. 

Peter has not made his disdain for children quiet, all the pack have witnessed his sneering derision for those little beings at one point or another. Most of the pack wouldn’t trust Peter with their fully grown lives in his hands, let alone those of a minor. Which is why Peter is stumped the day Derek shows up at his apartment with a child in his arms. Not just any child though, no. That would be too merciful. Derek shoves this little pliant thing into his arms after explaining how a spell went wrong. So not only does Peter now have a child in his arms, a 5 year old to be exact. He now has a 5 year old whom he has wanted his hands on since the moment he first laid eyes on him. Peter has literally been handed his doom in the very real, tiny body of one 5 year old Stiles Stilinski.


	2. Must you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is unimpressed with Derek's reasoning for leaving this de-aged version of Stiles with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had originally planned for this to only be 3 chapters long but I crumbled under that constraint that I put on myself. So, I've taken that away and we're pushing forward from here. Honestly cannot give a concrete number of chapters but expect more updates to come much sooner than this one did. I've had this sitting for awhile, plus quite a bit more, but I couldn't push myself to write because I kept freaking out over _only_ having this be 3 chapters long. I honestly feel so much better now that I've taken away that chain.

“Derek, I know I’ve accused you of being obtuse before but this is pushing it even for you.” Peter does not care that his tone is biting, he is furious.

“You are the only person who can take care of him right now Peter.” Derek’s tone is all exasperation. Peter would strangle him if his arms were not full.

“How, exactly, am I the only person who can take care of him?” Peter asks Derek. Peter can feel his insides knotting, sharp pangs jabbing his stomach from all the conflicting emotions running through him. He does his best to pretend that the thing in his arms does not exist, that it is a figment of his dirty imagination. 

“The Sheriff does not even know that Stiles is home from college yet, he thinks that Stiles is staying away all summer. He really wanted Stiles to stay away from all this,” Derek gestures between himself and Peter, and the thing in Peter’s arms, as if to say the supernatural world. “And clearly Stiles did not listen. I think it’s just best that we keep him away from the Sheriff until we have him back to normal.” Derek takes a breath but does not continue.

“And the rest of the motley crew, yourself even, why can’t you take care of him?” Peter desperately wants the thing out of his arms. He doesn’t, absolutely does not want to let him go and that is exactly why he needs to. Right away. Peter hefts the thing away from where it was clinging to his chest and tries to shove it back at Derek. Derek merely takes a step back. Peter is left holding the thing aloft at arms length and it delights him how it takes no effort whatsoever. Peter wonders if Derek can see the horror and excitement battling for supremacy in his eyes.

“Peter you know you’re the only one truly capable of taking care of him. Scott loves Stiles but he is not suited to taking care of himself let alone a child. In their dynamic it is always Stiles taking care of Scott. Besides Scott is too busy mooning over Allison, and even with her influence I think they would neglect Stiles. Lydia could probably handle it but she’s constantly got one foot outside the pack and I honestly don’t trust that she would be willing to. Her and Stiles have had a mostly strenuous relationship up until this point, and I honestly just cannot picture it. Isaac,” Derek has barely finished saying the name before Peter feels himself shifting into his beta form.

He has the pup curled tight to his chest, shielding it from the known threat that is Isaac Lahey. Peter has never liked Isaac, even the mention of his name leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Isaac’s jealousy of Stiles has always been forefront in every interaction the two have had. Peter has always found it distasteful. Isaac strives too hard to grab Scott’s attention, always abusing Stiles in some way to get it. Isaac’s treatment of Stiles has made Peter, on many occasions, itch to make the teenager bend and bow before Stiles. To make him see that he is not worthy compared to Stiles and that every action just proves Peter’s point even more. Peter can feel himself chuffing against Stiles, no the thing, and he forces himself to relax.

“Exactly.” Derek nods at Peter. Peter is slightly mollified to know that Derek agrees with his assessment of Isaac without him having to voice his protestations.Though his actions were demonstration enough, Peter knows. Peter feels his beta form finally leave him but he can no longer make himself push the pup away. Peter wanted the pup long before it deigned to even look at him and Peter will be hard pressed to give it up now that it’s been handed to him. His deep dark parts want the pup all to himself and the longer it clings to him the harder it is for him to remember why saying no is the best option.

“And you, dear nephew. What is your excuse for not being able to take care of him?” Peter asks. Though Peter can see, and agree, with the reasoning behind Derek not giving the pup to anyone else - especially Isaac - Peter knows that anyone else would be a better fit than him. Only 5 minutes has he had it in his arms and he already has the pup’s scent memorized. Already knows he’ll be able to track the soft thump-thump anywhere, knows that escape for the pup is quite futile now. Peter loves it. Peter loathes it.

“I just, I can’t.” Peter can see denial burning bright in his nephew’s eyes. Derek backs away, shaking his head while he says this. “You’ve been around kids before. You know how to handle them. You helped,” Derek stumbles over his words. “You helped raise me. I have good memories of my childhood of the two of us hanging out. You were always good with us. Patient. Stiles needs that right now. He truly believes he is 5 years old.” Peter’s brain latches onto that piece of information, the deep dark recesses of his soul exulting this victory. Peter strongly resists the urge to nuzzle the pup’s hair. “I’m too capable of harming him.” With that last parting sentence Derek turns around and flees, leaving Peter standing in his doorway now clutching the pup tightly to his chest.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done Derek.” Peter tells thin air. He curses Derek with every fiber of his being as he backs into his apartment and shuts the door. Peter laughs at the idea of Derek harming the pup. Derek has just set off a ticking time bomb and the stupid idiot thinks that he’s saving everything.

Peter walks into his living room and just stands there, the barnacle clinging to him. Peter glances at it, truly looks at it for the first time, and he sees that the pup’s eyes are closed. Derek did not fully explain the spell that landed the pup as he is now so Peter is left wondering if the spell also knocked him unconscious. Peter blows in his face and it causes no reaction beyond a scrunching of the nose. Peter contemplates putting the pup down to sleep somewhere but he really cannot fathom the idea of letting go, and resigns himself to walking around with a barnacle attached to him. He really truly does not mind. 

The pup lets off a warm blend of cinnamon, vanilla, and woodsy musk that has Peter constantly checking himself against nuzzling into it. Innocent and malleable are not two words Peter would have used to describe the pup when it was older, but as it is now those two words fit excruciatingly well. It’s in the relaxed way his face is lying, no worry or stress lines. It’s in the way the pup clings to Peter, trust implicit in that simple action. This is the kind of gift Peter’s depraved soul has been waiting for, the kind of gift he has been actively avoiding. Peter craves it. Peter despises it. 

Peter knows he cannot let himself think too hard on this. He reminds himself that this problem will be turned back to the appropriate age soon enough and that he will be rid of it. The knowledge causes a truly unwelcome intense pain in his chest. Peter wants and for right now he lets himself have, just a sliver, and goes to lay on the couch with the pup laying on his chest. When the pup wakes Peter knows he’ll be in for a roller coaster ride. Until then he’s going to let himself be lulled by the steady breathing coming from it. His problem. His barnacle. His pup. Peter closes his eyes.


	3. Wake Up Little One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter prepares everything for when Stiles wakes up.

Peter wakes long enough to move himself and the pup to the bedroom, the little one showing no signs of waking anytime soon. Laying him in the bed, Peter takes a moment to observe. Little hands tucked into his chest, eyelids fluttering as he dreams away, legs tucked in tight, and almost silent breaths.

Peter feels more drained than he has any right to be. The weight of the decision to leave the pup in his care has clearly affected him more than he thought it would, and all they’ve done so far is nap. Well, the pup napped. Peter dreamed of amber eyes gazing at him in adoration, hands reaching for him in trust. It’s that trust that had Peter shuddering awake. His pup doesn’t trust him, or at least not the fully grown version. This version, on the other hand, could learn to trust him very well.

These thoughts accompany Peter back into the land of dreams where it’s okay for him to think of shackling the pup to him forever, his willing servant. 

The hummingbird fast beat of a tiny heart brings Peter to full wakefulness in seconds. His pup is scared and that is absolutely not acceptable. Peter finds himself up and braced over his pup, fangs bared, eyes searching for the threat. A stifled cry sounds from beneath him and Peter growls.

He lowers himself further to cover his pup, rumbling reassurances. The pup’s heart slowly climbs down to a normal range and by that point Peter has determined that there is no threat in the apartment.

He snuffles his pup’s hair, needing reassurance himself after that scare. His pup is still and too quiet for his liking so Peter starts grooming him, hoping to bring him out of his shell. It’s as the pup lets out a squeak of protest that Peter’s brain finally comes back online and he realises what he’s doing. He freezes. This is not at all how he wanted his first interaction with Stiles to go.

Now that he’s started grooming him though Peter finds he really doesn’t want to stop, his wolf urging him on as well. Stiles tries to get his hands up but Peter grabs them and holds them gently above his head as he continues to lick at the pup’s hair, face, and neck. The pup’s eyes start leaking and Peter plays close attention to the salty liquid, lapping it up. It doesn’t take long for the pup’s breathing to even out signalling that he’s fallen asleep again.

Peter doesn’t know what bothered his pup enough to wake him up but now that his pup has fallen back asleep Peter finally feels himself relax. He glances over at the clock to the see the numbers reading brightly that it’s 3:45am. 

He’s fully awake now, knows that sleeping will be non-existent at this point, so Peter slowly pushes himself up and off the pup. He quickly goes to grab his laptop so he can sit beside the little one sleeping in his bed and browse the internet. His new charge will need clothes and so Peter spends the next couple of hours listening to the calming thump of his pups heart as he orders some essentials for next day delivery.

* * *

Peter decides to get up before the pup wakes up to stave off allowing his wolf to come to the forefront to snuggle the pup the way it wants to, to cover it in their smell so everyone knows that the pup belongs to them. It helps that he spent the night in Peter’s bed so their scents have already started to blend, if even only slightly. 

Peter keeps one ear trained on the heartbeat coming from his bedroom while he starts getting everything ready for breakfast. The older version of his pup never allows himself the luxury to pamper himself for breakfast so Peter takes great delight in making what he knows to be his pup’s favourites: fried eggs, pancakes, and bacon. He makes a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice because he won’t allow his pup, or himself, to have anything but the best. 

His ears prick immediately when the slow, soothing _thump_ that’s been his music all morning picks up in speed as the pup wakes up. Peter wants to go to him but knows that allowing his pup to explore and come to him would be best. His pup needs to learn that he can always come to Peter for help but he needs to take the first steps.

The breakfast is all set, Peter just needs to make the eggs, so he allows himself a moment to close his eyes as his ears strain to hear every movement coming from the bedroom. The _shh shh_ glide of the sheets and the _foomp_ of the comforter being pushed aside sound first, the body so small that the bed itself makes no noise, and then all Peter hears is that little heartbeat increasing in speed. 

The pup knows he’s not in a familiar place and Peter will admit, only to himself, that he’s anxious of the pups reaction. This is a safe place for the pup even if he doesn’t know it yet. Peter will make sure that he knows.

Peter hears the _thud_ of little feet as they hit the ground, the heartbeat neither increasing or decreasing as the pup surveys his surroundings. Peter opens his eyes and turns around so he can watch as the little body appears in the doorway. It’s not a big apartment, only housing one bedroom and bathroom, and the living room and kitchen which are only separated by different flooring. The perfect den for him and his pup.

Peter sees little fingers grasp the the door frame before little eyes appear. His little one is weary, and while his instincts are good and make the wolf grumble its approval Peter knows they have to make their pup comfortable and that there is nothing for him to be weary of - at least there isn’t so long as he listens to Peter.

Peter cannot imagine the little one not wanting to listen though when he will shower him abundantly with praise and goodies should he behave. 

His pup does not spot him immediately, even as he steps further out in the small hallway, and Peter gets his first glimpse of him awake and moving around. There is a stillness to him that strikes Peter as off since the older version is constantly moving and it makes Peter wonder if the ADHD was brought on after his mother passed away. Peter slots that thought away to think on later.

Peter stands perfectly still so as not to spook his pup when he turns around and spots him. He stands up straight but holds himself loosely, the wolf wants their pup to see he is strong and capable but not frightening. 

The eyes that study him are watery but no tears spill down the solemn face. Peter aches to see the water spill as it did last night so he can lick it away. He reaches behind himself to touch the counter, grounding himself in the kitchen. His pup _will_ come to him. 

A faint sulphur smells flits under Peter’s nose and he barely holds in the flinch, the smell bringing up memories he’d rather forget. It has him examining the little being standing in his hallway more carefully for signs of an explosion. Just because the older version only found out that he had a spark later on in life doesn’t mean his little self didn’t use it accidentally in times of stress.

The wolf spots a faint haze surrounding the body before it’s sucked in like a vacuum just as the little heartbeat that he’s been keeping on ear on shoots off like a bullet and the little one’s breathing chokes him in his sudden anxiety. Peter’s by his side instantly, kneeling in front of his pup but not touching in case that makes the attack worse.

The tears are falling in a cascade that leave amber eyes beautifully clear. Peter would see his pups eyes like this every day if not for the pain causing it. It’s not the good kind of pain and he itches to soothe it. 

He slowly reaches out for a little hand and gently places it on his chest, letting the pup feel his slow and steady heartbeat under small fingers. 

“Breathe with me.” He commands. “Deep breath in and hold it.” Peter exaggerates his breathing to show the pup what he wants. “Now let it out slowly.” Peter presses the little hand more firmly against his chest so that his pup can feel exactly what he’s doing.

It takes long moments before the little one can even hold his breath, resetting his diaphragm to stop the hiccups coming through, but once he gets it the improvement is visible. Little cheeks fill with colour as rattling breaths slow. Peter allows himself to lean forward to nuzzle at the little neck visible to him and the scent of his pup up close soothes his wolf.

Taking in the smell clears his brain and he finally realises that he’s been operating more as the wolf since the pup landed in his arms than himself. It would annoy him but the little one seems to respond better to Peter the wolf than Peter the not quite human. 

Even though nuzzling isn’t a normal human reaction the pup melts into the touch and brings tiny arms up to wrap around Peter’s head, squeezing the wolf in close. Peter lets himself lick at the dried salt tracks left by the tears that managed to find their way down the pups neck and it causes the little one to giggle.

They stay in that position for long enough that Peter has thoroughly scent marked his pup, the wolf’s satisfaction bleeding through as his eyes flare bright blue. It’s not a slip up he’d normally allow himself but everything about their pup is making it hard to control himself.

The pup pulls back first and Peter allows the separation. He knows the pup saw his eyes but no comment is made on it. He wonders how much the little brain is actually processing and how much is being ignored in favour of figuring out where he is.

“I’m,” The pup starts but pauses. The little voice zings through Peter, high and wavering. “Hungry.” He finishes succinctly.

Peter can do nothing but smile as he stands up, the pups hand transferring from his chest to his hand, as Peter leads him into the kitchen. The table is set and Peter leads the little one to his spot before he walks back to the oven to take out the warming pancakes and bacon. He sets them on the table and watches as little eyes take in everything but the little mouth stays firmly closed.

“I’m just going to fry up some eggs and then we can eat.” Peter looks into the pups eyes and wonders if the unspoken command was heard.

He lets himself turn back to the stove to get the eggs done and allows a smile to grace his face as no sound comes from the table. The little one is listening, whether out of fear Peter knows not - the rancid smell of fear underlying everything - but it pleases him that his pup knows how to listen without Peter having to spell out everything.

He makes quick work of the eggs and plates them before bringing them to the table. He sets them down between himself and the little one, smiling as little eyes greedily continue to rove over the food. Amber eyes turn to him with a silent question.

“You may help yourself.” Peter tells him but the pup still waits until Peter has started serving himself before he reaches for anything. It pleases Peter to no end, that small gesture of submissiveness.

As Peter watches the little one mows down on more food then such a little body should be able to take in and it confirms for him the thought that the spell had taken quite a bit out of him. The sleep had most likely sewn together the fracturing of his mind while the food was nourishing and replenishing the rest of his magical core. 

It’s as the pup is finally slowing down, looking as if he’s nearing full, that the little body freezes and big eyes look at Peter accusingly. Peter raises an eyebrow in question but doesn’t say anything, hoping to encourage whatever little thoughts are floating around to come out.

“I’m not Hansel and you’re not the witch.” Is what finally comes out of the little mouth. Peter is fascinated that he would have made that connection and cannot help the uptick of his mouth.

“Mummy and Daddy didn’t send me to Grandma’s either so what are you doing with me Big Bad Wolf?” his pup says, voice full of steel and a hint of the older version peeking through.

Peter does not stun easily but those words have him frozen in place. There’s an anger to the words that are too deep to belong to the pup, or this version of him, and a dark menace that flares bright in his eyes. There’s also a knowing that shouldn’t be present.

It hits Peter fully that he’s dealing with a being that has access to an abundance of magic with none of the control that comes with it, and though Derek had told him that Stiles thought he was five there was clearly a part of him that remembered. Now more than ever Peter needs to tread carefully. 

“I’m taking care of you because I was asked to.” Peter goes with a version of the truth. No matter how much of the older version may be there anything too grand would make the little mind collapse. “Now be a good boy and finish up, then we’ll clean up.”

Peter watches the pup closely as a lip trembles and he wonders how many more times tears are going to fall down those beautiful cheeks. The pup doesn’t argue as he eats the rest of the food on his plate. Peter is satisfied as the pup puts his utensils down that at least they’ve covered one obstacle. 

He’s sure they’ll revisit it again but the pup is weary for now and it gives Peter time to think up answers to questions that are likely to come his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter may seem a bit off in this chapter but that's because his wolf is bleeding through quite a bit.


	4. It Begins

The clean up for breakfast goes over smoothly, little hands getting soapy water everywhere barely make Peter’s eye twitch, and they settle down in the living room to observe each other.

It is unnerving to Peter, not because the eyes scrutinizing him are probably seeing more than he would like, but because of the silence. He had never known Stiles to be quiet and he would have expected the younger version to be even worse than the older, at least in terms of talking.

It takes a few moments for the little one to break the silence. “I want to go home.”

The voice and the little eyes appealing to him are all his little pup. Peter feels more moved to comfort and soothe his pup than he ever has any little being that’s ever been in his presence. He finds himself inching closer when there’s a knock on his door.

Peter watches as Stiles tenses all over. It makes him wonder if he should warn the little one against trying to run out the door or screaming for help but he also doesn’t want to give the little one ideas.

Instead he gives his pup a stern look and goes to answer the door as another round of knocking sounds out.

Peter is relieved to find that it’s the order he picked up only a few hours ago; clothes and a few other things to keep his little one content until he becomes big again. He signs for the packages, keeping an ear out for sounds behind him, and quickly closes the door.

He turns around and is of course met with an empty living room. He can still hear his pup’s heartbeat but it is faint - though surprisingly even. Peter places the boxes down on the coffee table, taking a moment to contemplate what to do next.

His pup really will be more comfortable in clothes that fit him so Peter allows the little rebellion as he sits down to open the packages. He delights in picking out each outfit, planning what his pup will wear with what.

There are button up cardigans and collared long sleeve shirts; dark jeans and light jeans, along with a few pairs of nicer pants; a few henleys and undershirts; and a number of tee shirts that Peter would have rathered not bought but knew that his pup would want: captain america, iron man, black widow, and of course a few star wars shirts. The shirts are of the highest quality material so while Peter is not fond of the designs on them he at least knows his pup will be wearing the best.

The last items are a few packs of generic childrens underwear and Peter can only be thankful that he will not have to potty train Stiles. He can only imagine what the older version would have to say about it if he found out Peter had had to take part in anything of the sort when he was already left in Peter’s care.

The thought makes Peter pause and turn his head towards his bedroom where he knows the little one is currently hiding. The heartbeat has steadied out which means his pup has fallen asleep and Peter pushes to his feet to go check on his pup as he contemplates the new thought running around in his brain.

Perhaps Peter was the best solution of a bad lot but no one took Stiles’ thoughts into consideration. Peter has already experienced hints of the older Stiles peeking through the little amber eyes, and while it had thrilled him to know that such power was now at his mercy, he knows the older Stiles would hate that he was stuck with Peter.

It makes Peter itch, knowing gaining the trust of the little one is even more imperative as it will surely colour the thoughts of the older Stiles.

He pushes open the door and does not immediately spot Stiles, which is not surprising. He takes a deep breath, relishing their mixed scents as he heads further into the room. His pup’s heartbeat is still thumping steadily and Peter hones in on the sound, walking to the closet and peering in.

The little one is curled up underneath a pile of Peter’s henleys, and Peter feels his chest squeeze. His picks up his pup along with the bundle of shirts and carries them over to the bed. He tucks the little one in, figuring a nap is not a bad thing for his pup especially when dealing with so many new things.

Peter leaves the little one sleeping and goes about sorting out the clothes, gathering them up to put in the washing machine.

He leaves the clothes and goes to stand in the doorway to his bedroom, watching the rise and fall of the blankets on the bed. His pup has managed to burrow further under the blankets and the pile of Peter’s henleys.

Out of all their pack members, Stiles knows best the darkness that lies within Peter - has even gone toe to toe with Peter in a bid to control the danger lurking just beneath Peter’s surface. Stiles, of course, knows his own evil and admittedly hides it better than Peter has ever been able to.

Each breath expanding those little lungs resonates with Peter, and he knows in that moment that he will bathe the world in red to keep his pup to himself - knows he will be hard pressed to relinquish his hold on Stiles once he’s no longer five years old and trusting Peter with more than just his safety. He also knows that it is paramount that he earn his pup’s trust.

He knows there is only so much planning he can do because there are only so many predictions he can make about Stiles’ reaction; and those reactions will be vastly different because it is a five year old’s brain coming to conclusions with only minor input from his older self.

The ding of the washing machine pulls his attention and Peter realises that he’s been watching his pup sleep a lot longer than he had intended. He makes quick work of moving the clothes into the dryer and goes to make brunch since he knows his little one will be hungry once he wakes.

Peter hums to himself as he makes peanut butter and sandwiches for himself and his pup - the humming something he picked up from the older version of Stiles - when he hears movement at his front door. He counts four separate heartbeats.

He flexes his fingers and takes a deep breath, trying to not let the irritation of his unexpected visitors get to him. Barely 14 hours he has had his pup and now the pack decide to show up, there’s no mistaking the bickering of Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac.

Peter sighs.

He contemplates not answering the door but knows now that the gaggle of geese are here they will not leave until they’ve seen Stiles is hale and whole. Gritting his teeth, he covers the sandwiches and makes his way to the door.

Peter opens the door before the first knock can land and glares at the four people standing in the hallway.

“Can I help you?”  

They each try to talk over top of each other and Peter rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he waits for them to sort themselves out.

Lydia clears her throat and settles herself first. “We’re here to see Stiles, let us in.” She does not wait for an answer, merely pushes past Peter and marches around the apartment, looking for his little charge.

The rest of the troupe are quick to follow Lydia and Peter watches as they all congregate at his bedroom door. He does not bother approaching them, stands back and waits for the barrage he is sure to get momentarily.

They all turn on him, arms crossed like a bad nineties band, and Peter barely holds back his smirk.

Scott is the one to step forward, typical, and read Peter the riot act. “You better know that we will be here every day and watching your every move.” He threatens, taking what he probably hoped was a menacing step forward, but which Peter thinks looks more like a scared and unsure young man afraid for his best friend.

“Any one of you could have taken over when this happened. Could have volunteered to take care of young Stiles in this predicament. But instead you kept your mouths shut and now you think you can show up here and threaten me? Is that really your wisest decision?” Peter barely controlled the anger in his voice, hackles up at their perceived threat.

They would not take away his pup.

“We will do what we must, wolf.” Allison is the one to reply this time.

Her lips curl up in a mock snarl and Peter sees echoes of her aunt in her stance. Peter refrains from responding and that is probably the only reason he hears movement from behind the group gathered in front of him.

They do not seem to notice as they all affirm Allison’s proclamation but Peter is no longer paying attention to them. Instead he turns his attention to the elevating heartbeat coming from his pup as the little one moves into view behind the pack.

His pup’s eyes are open wide and glistening with tears, yet another thing that’s upset him and it angers Peter.

“Peter Sir?” His pup’s voice is shaky as he bravely tries to hold in his tears.

He goes to push through the pack but they bar him, standing shoulder to shoulder between him and his pup. His wolf growls, waiting for a word from Peter that they can surge forward to protect what is theirs but Peter takes a step back and takes a deep breath. He will not have to say a thing, he can see all the conviction in his pup’s eyes - he just has to wait until his little one snaps.

“I’m right here pup.” He reassures, making eye contact with his little one to reinforce his words.

He can see Stiles’ indecision to step forward as Scott turns around and drops to his knees in front of Stiles.

“Hey buddy, it’s me Scott.”

“I don’t know you.” Stiles states firmly, taking a step back as Scott puts out his arms.

“You do know me, I’m your best friend.” Scott pleads.

Peter’s not sure what Scott is expecting. Derek briefed everyone on the situation and he knows that Scott understands that Stiles believes he is five years old.

The confusion is evident on Stiles’ face and Peter refrains from rolling his eyes at the idiots standing in front of him only because he knows his pup is watching him. He does not want to start any bad habits.

Stiles shakes his head, twisting his hands in front of his body. “I want Sir.”

Peter is gratified to see that Scott, et al, are smart enough to move aside so there is no impending freak out from their resident spark turned child. His pup walks sedately up to him, bypassing Peter to stand behind his legs.

The little one does not grab onto his pant legs but he leans into Peter, a comfort to both of them. Peter reaches a hand back and rests it on the back of his pup’s neck.

Lydia is the one to finally see reason, relaxing her stance and dropping to her knees beside Scott. “Stiles, we just wanted to come over and watch some movies with you.” She smiles past Peter.

“What movies?” Stiles asks, not moving a muscle from behind Peter.

“We were thinking of watching Sleeping Beauty.” Scott tentatively beams at Stiles.

It’s no secret that Stiles’ favourite Disney movie is Sleeping Beauty and Peter silently commends Scott for pulling out the big guns from the get go. His pup steps out from behind him, Peter clenches his fists to keep from holding him back as his little one takes a step towards the four people gathered in front of them.

“Okay, but I’m sitting with Sir. And I’m hungry.” He says the second part to Peter, looking up with big beseeching eyes. As if Peter would have said no without the lethal tactic.

“Of course, I’ve got peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all ready.”

Peter leads his pup to the kitchen and sets him up at the table to eat his sandwich with a glass of milk, all the while keeping an ear out as the four annoyances set up in his living room. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

He sits down to eat with Stiles, setting the precedence of always eating meals together right from the start, and pays close attention to his pup. The little one is eating slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly before swallowing, and Peter smiles at him approvingly.

He can hear that they have the movie all set up but he’s not going to rush his pup through a meal. Stiles is already too tiny and Peter refuses to allow any further relapses when it comes to his little ones eating habits.

“May I have some more please Sir?” Stiles asks quietly, wide eyes glancing from Peter to the living room and back.

“That’s my good boy!” Peter enthuses. “Of course you may have another sandwich.”

He quickly makes another sandwich, overjoyed that Stiles is already feeling comfortable enough with him to look to Peter for food, safety, and comfort. Peter will provide that much and more for his pup.

The little one only eats half of the second sandwich before asking to be excused. Peter raises a brow at Stiles.

“What about the dishes?”

Stiles freezes by his chair. “Oh. I forgot.”

“That’s alright but I would like you to help me.”

Stiles nods as he picks up his plate and cup, bringing them to the sink. Peter watches as he grabs a chair over and proceeds to wash his dishes, leaving them to dry on the drying rack.

“Good boy, thank you.” Peter praises, watching as a smile shyly flits onto his pup’s face. “You go join Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac in the living room and I will be right there.” He shoos Stiles along.

It’s going to be a long afternoon.The only good thing is that when he makes his way into the living room it is to see Stiles wiggling over to make room for Peter beside himself on the armchair. It is going to be a tight fit but the prospect of being able to snuggle his pup all afternoon more than makes up for having to deal with some of his least favourite people.


	5. Two Is Company

It turns out that Sleeping Beauty was not the only movie the pack decided to bring over to tempt his little one. After the first movie there is the choice between Star Wars - Peter does not care to know which one - and Avatar. Peter only bare avoids letting himself huff in annoyance at the choices as they are, after all, some of his pup’s favourites.

Peter is gratified that Stiles never quite warms up to the pack. Apparently given a choice between Peter and the pack, Stiles choses Peter and while the older wolf does not gloat aloud he has absolutely no qualms about smugly grinning at the pack whenever they glance over.

Scott announces halfway through that he wants snacks. Peter opens his mouth to say no only to have his little pup wiggle around and give him a look, one Peter is immune to, at least coming from anyone else.

Stiles climbs to his knees beside Peter and whispers into Peter’s ear.

“Can we have popcorn? Or pizza? That’s what you eat when you watch movies.”

Peter groans, head falling back onto the couch, pulling Stiles onto his lap and hugging him tightly. Stiles laughed and tried to squirm away but Peter was not going to let up. 

“Please Sir! Let me go for popcorn!” Stiles squeals.

Laughing, Peter picks his little one up and puts him onto the floor. “If we make popcorn, and order pizza, I expect you to eat some salad.”

Peter’s wolf perks up as the little pup’s head cocks to the side, contemplating. The wolf wants to come out and play with the curious little one, wonders what other wolf behaviours it has. Peter is delighted that Stiles is thinking over the proposal, not just leaping in with both feet. His chest puffs up in pride as Stiles gives him one last look before nodding.

“Good boy.”

The words slip out before Peter has a chance to censor himself and his wolf takes note of the tension raising in the room, growling at Peter to get between the pup and the potentially dangerous pack. For once Peter listens to his wolf and stands up to situate himself in front of his pup.

Stiles tenses slightly at the quick movement but doesn’t move, it helps soothe the wolf. Focusing on the pack, he takes in the harsh lines of their bodies, their clear disapproval. Pretentious, the lot of them, wanting none of the responsibility but reserving the right to judge how they wish. If it would not affect his pup, Peter would rend them limb from limb. 

“Think I cannot handle myself, wolf?” Comes from behind him, the voice all wrong but the tone all right.

If anything it seems to make the tension in the room climb but it breaks Peter’s defences and he glances over his shoulder at the knowledgable eyes in the tiny body.

“Impertinent.” Peter huffs but does not move. “I am fully aware that you are capable of handling yourself, Stiles, but seeing as you’re currently _not quite yourself_ , I deemed some interference necessary.”

“Stiles?”

Peter’s wolf rumbles and it causes the pack to stop their forward movement. It only grants Peter a very minute satisfaction. 

“Yes Scotty?” Stiles answers Scott, though Peter is gratified to notice that he does not move from his position behind Peter’s legs.

This is the reason Peter has always been so fond of Stiles. This Stiles, who even while stuck as a five year old, knows exactly what he wants and won’t pander to anyone. The kid who has just enough darkness in him that it allows him to make the tough decision without flinching. This Stiles, who willingly steps back from his friends in favour of staying behind enemy lines because he knows at any moment his little persona could come rearing to the front.

This Stiles who grabs onto one of Peter’s hands and holds it tight as tearful amber eyes look up at him, confused.

Peter quickly drops to his knees and surveys his pup. The pack are now merely background noise.

Kneeling eye-to-eye with the little one, Peter can see that his pup wants comfort but even in front of the pack he will not cave. His pup needs to ask for what he wants. Peter watches as his pup’s chin trembles and his lower lip is fighting a pout, and still Peter waits.

It is not a contest of wills, Peter knows he will end up getting what he wants, but watching his pup deliberate over whether or not to seek comfort in Peter is delightful. Peter is only thankful that he has his back turned to the back or else they would have his head for the smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth.

Finally the little one makes his decision and opens his arms wide and Peter pulls him in. Pulling Stiles in close is easy and his pup presses dry eyes into Peter’s neck, relaxing all of his weight into the wolf’s arms.

If Peter were a wolf right now his tail would be swaying.

Though his pup has been pressed against his side all afternoon, Peter has held off from actually scenting and holding the little one, but that stops now. With the warm and assuring weight of his pup in his arms, Peter stands up - rumbling his approval when the little one tightens his arms around Peter’s neck.

He turns to face the pack and for the first time since Derek arrived at his doorstep, he is viciously glad that Stiles was left in his care. The idiots in front of him don’t even seem to realise that their anger is what is upsetting Stiles. Their aggression is tangible and it is that aggression that has Stiles burrowing closer to Peter.

“Is Stiles back?”

Lahey, always the idiot. Peter does not even bother rolling his eyes, he is not wasting energy on fools.

“No, clearly. He’s aware though?” Lydia is the one to respond, and Peter nods slightly in answer to her question.

“Sometimes.” He clarifies for the rest.

Peter is interrupted from saying anything further when his pup leans back in his embrace and too trusting eyes stare into his. The little one does not say anything but it is clear that he is still uncomfortable with the presence of the pack at his back, though Peter doubts either of the other wolves can sense the fine tension humming through the little body.

“I believe you have overstayed your welcome.” Peter turns to look at the gathered teenagers. 

The only one not looking as if they want to protest is Isaac which is probably a good thing for Peter knows that no way in hell would Lahey stand up for Stiles unless he had anything to gain. Lydia looks more thoughtful than when she came in but as always there is a distrust heavily present in her stare.

Allison is all simmering fury and Peter knows if she had her bow present it would be pointing straight at him. It does not matter how much they have had to work together, Allison’s grudge still holds strong. If Peter were a better man he might actually care.

Scott, well, Peter’s not surprised by his reaction. Alpha red eyes are burning bright as they stare at Stiles. Peter can only be thankful that his pup’s back is to the Alpha; Peter is not sure how much his little one knows of werewolves and other supernatural creatures, or remembers even. 

For all that Peter’s wolf is closer to the surface when around his pup he’s never actually let it out around the little one. There’s only so much shock a little mind can take and Peter knows that not being able to go home to his parents has already wound up Stiles.

This, this is why Peter was - and still is - the best option for Stiles.

Scott steps towards them but Stiles tenses before Peter can say anything and that stops Scott in his tracks. He looks betrayed and guilty and if his pup were not looking at him, Peter would have grinned at Scott.

“Stiles? Stiles, I’m going to see you later okay?”

Stiles says nothing, and lays his head on Peter’s shoulder. 

The pup’s neck is on display, all vulnerable and laid out for Peter. Blue veins pulsing in time to the heartbeat that Peter has mesmerized. Little hands pulled in tight and curled between Peter’s chest and Stiles’.

“Goodbye.” Scott calls out, one last ditch effort to get a response from Stiles.

If his pup does not want to interact with the pack, Peter certainly will not make him. 

They walk out the door and Peter smirks as he nuzzles the top of his pup’s head. All in all, the afternoon was not a total disaster. He also knows just how to make his pup happy.

“What toppings do you want on your pizza?”

Stiles lets out a squeal before yelling into Peter’s ear, “Bacon!” 

His pup even eats all of his salad later, so though Peter has to clean up pizza sauce that got all over the little one’s clothes, it was a great night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really really not feeling the end of this chapter but if I keep looking at it this would not have been posted for even longer.... Sorry.


	6. Temper Tantrum

Peter shuffles the little one along for bedtime, getting his teeth brushed - using one of Peter’s spares - and into his new batman pyjamas. 

Stiles laughs and schools his face into a frown before growling at Peter, “I’m Batman!”, before dissolving into giggles again.

The Christian Bale batman series are definitely way beyond this Stiles’ time but it is yet another show of the older one bleeding through. There is hope that Stiles will be back to his regular self before long, well perhaps for the others. Peter is quite enjoying taking care of his pup and his wolf snarls at the idea of letting him go.

“Okay Batman, it’s time to get into bed.” Peter says once the little’s laughter has ebbed.

His pup’s entire demeanor changes and he solemnly looks up at Peter. “Yes sir.” He says before pushing up onto his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Peter’s stomach.

The little act, of love and trust, catches Peter like a hook through his heart and he kneels down so that he’s of a level with his pup. They survey each other for mere seconds before the little one is climbing onto Peter’s lap.

His wolf croons in his ears as he leans in to scent his pup one final time for the night. The little one’s scent is now saturated with Peter’s and the mix that is the result is both heady and everything he has ever wanted. Though upset is still a base layer, tainting the purity of combined scents that the wolf yearns for, there is still enough contentment and happiness - _love_ \- that Peter feels victorious.

In only a day he’s managed more headway with the little one than he has ever managed with the older version.

A sleepy yawn directed right into his ear pulls Peter from his thoughts and he stands up, his pup held securely in his arms. He pulls back the covers on his bed and lays the little one down, laying his pup down on the left side of the bed - furthest away from the door.

His pup clings a little and Peter waits, leaning his head back so that he can make eye contact. The eyes that stare back have a hard edge to them and Peter inwardly smirks in anticipation of what Stiles is going to say.

“Don’t think for one fucking second that I don’t know this is your bed I am currently laying on. You better keep your limbs to yourself or you may find yourself missing a few later on.” Stiles says with a grin and a wink.

If Peter were anyone else he would admit to being scared of the threat coming out of one so little, as it is Peter winks back and watches as his pup comes back. It is a little like watching someone wake up with sleep in their eyes and disorientation controlling their limbs.

Once his pup finally remembers where he is he smiles up at Peter and pats the older man’s cheek. “Goodnight, sir.” He says as his eyes close. Moments later Peter hears his heartbeat slow and finally gives in to the urge to lean down and kiss the little one’s forehead.

Glancing at the clock shows that it is only about eight in the evening. Normally he would never be caught going to bed so early but with such a cute little thing curled up so snug in his bed, Peter does not resist the temptation to change into his own pyjamas and getting into bed beside his pup. 

The little one automatically rolls over and snuggles into Peter’s side. He turns off the light and wraps his arms loosely around his pup - Stiles’ threat still zinging around his brain - and inhales their scents as he lets the sound of a little heartbeat lull him to sleep.

* * *

Waking up to an empty bed had never figured into Peter’s plans. Indeed he was quite shocked to find that not only had the little one managed to leave the bedroom without Peter hearing but he also managed, by the smell of it, to make himself some toast and coffee all without alerting the wolf.

It was very troubling to think that the pup had such stealth; The coffee smell hinted that perhaps Peter would be greeted by someone other than the little one he wanted right now.

Getting out of bed proved easier with the right motivation and Peter was dressed and observing Stiles from the hallway in no time. It said it all in the slant of his shoulders and the way he leaned against the counter that the older version was forefront this morning.

Though his clothes - an iron man t-shirt and cute little jeans - said child, Stiles’ entire demeanor screamed frustrated adult.

“Peter.” Stiles nodded at him before gesturing to the full coffee pot.

“Good morning to you as well, Stiles.” Peter replied if only to see if the response would preempt his little one coming back sooner.

Alas all his response received was a raised middle finger. Peter tutted as he finally made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. It smelled heavenly so Peter knew Stiles had at least brewed his best roast properly.

“And how long do you believe I’ll have the pleasure of your company?” Peter wondered aloud as he mirrored Stiles’ pose.

Stiles shrugged as he drained his mug and walked toward Peter and promptly presented Peter with his mug. Peter eyed it before looking Stiles square in the eye. “I think not. One mug full is more than enough for your little system.”

Stiles glared and Peter’s only warning that something was coming for him was in that strange haze suddenly becoming visible around the little body in front of him. He dove to the side just as a concussive blast was sent firing his way.

He rolled to his feet and jumped forward just in time to catch his pup as the little fell in a faint. Peter let out a sigh and cradled his pup closer, looking down into the slack face of the being currently occupying all of Peter’s thoughts.

Peter cannot even find it in himself to be annoyed that Stiles went for the hit, is delighted even that even in this form his Stiles is forever keeping Peter on his toes - not that he would ever tell the spark that. Peter grinned as he resettled the little one and took him to the couch.

Peter gently placed Stiles down and went to his bedroom to grab up the blanket that smelled like them and tucked his pup in. The little one looked so peaceful in sleep and it was fast becoming Peter’s second favourite look.

His favourite look, of course, being the look of ire Stiles always got with fire in his eyes whenever he was putting Peter in his place. Peter chucked to himself as he made his way back to the kitchen to grab himself some breakfast. 

It might be some time before the little one woke up, his pup having expended on his energy on a small temper tantrum. Peter really could not wait until Stiles was back to his older version if only to recount that moment in excruciating detail just to watch the spark squirm.

 


	7. Of Declarations

There’s something to be said for watching the rise and fall of a chest that cages the beating heart that keeps alive the one being in the world who can conceivably change of all of Peter’s plans in the blink of an eye. It puts the wolf in quite the trance while the man takes a back seat to think about what the upcoming days might hold.

Peter had not planned to have all his time occupied with a little being who at the best of times was a surly little pushy thing while at the worst of times teetered the edge of control as the older self tried to fight it’s way to the forefront. Having to curb his urge to constantly mould Stiles - the younger - into the image of obedience and loyalty to Peter, while also not pushing too far would prove to be the most difficult task.

The little one rolled over on the couch, effectively bringing Peter back to the present. A large yawn and little arms coming up to stretch over his pup’s head nearly had Peter rumbling at the cuteness. _Nearly_.

Peter said nothing as little eyes blinked open and found him with unerring accuracy. Never before had he felt so sized up by so tiny a being.

“You don’t like me much, do you?”

Peter sputtered. “W-what?” He could only thank his luck that no one was around to see his blunder. 

Of course it would be Stiles who could elicit such a response from Peter, no matter if he was young or old.

“Whatever gave you that idea, pup?” Peter asked, his curiosity soaring. Out of the mouth of babes was a saying Peter was re-familiarizing himself with.

“You don’t love me.” 

The words are said in the most sincere of tones, the belief of them ringing through loud and clear - Peter is hard pressed not to gape. Sure, love is a concept that has always been skewed for him but he can understand it perfectly and mimic it greatly.

“I,” Peter trails off, really unsure of how to proceed. He hates the feeling of unease blooming in his chest, his wolf restless but confused.

“It’s okay, I know you don’t. I’m a bad boy, it’s why mommy and daddy sent me away. It’s why you give me the stinky face look.” His pup said, amber eyes round and glistening. 

Peter’s up and scooping up the little one before his next breath leaves his body, his body flaring in heat before being consumed by ice. The dread he feels is not a new feeling but it is one he strove to never feel again after the fire.

“Oh pup, of course I love you.” He says, more truth to the words than he had been aware of mere moments ago. “Peter’s just not very good at saying the words, but I show it don’t I? I make you food and give you hugs. I even let you sleep in my bed and no one else has ever been allowed to do that.” Peter pulls back a little to look Stiles in the eye, hoping to convey the sincerity of what he is saying.

Big fat tears are rolling down his little one’s face and the wolf growls, itching to come forward and groom the pup. In that moment Peter makes a decision.

“In fact, I love you so much I’m going to tell you my biggest secret.”

Peter knows it is the correct decision to make when he sees a calculating look take over his pup’s face, the tears slowly tapering off. 

Stiles opens his mouth and coughs before leveling Peter a look. “What is it?”

Peter thinks about how to continue before taking a deep breath. He puts the little one down and takes measured steps back so that his pup will not feel crowded after Peter reveals his true nature.

“You need to stay right there and trust me, okay?” He waits until he receives a nod before continuing. “I’m a werewolf, Stiles. Do you know what that is?”

Stiles scoffs. Peter’s not entirely sure who is at the forefront right now.

“If you was a werewolf you’d have a tail, and ears.” Stiles states with conviction.

Peter laughs, some of the tension that had slowly been creeping up his body dissipating. “Werewolves are not half wolf and half human all the time. They would not be able to survive; I would not be able to survive, if I showed my true self all the time.”

“Oh.” Stiles says and pauses, thinking over all the information that has just been handed to him. “Yous gotta show me.”

“Stiles, have you forgot all of your good manners?” Peter tuts.

The little one sighs and Peter would swear he was going to rolls his eyes but he does not.

“Sorry, Sir. Can you please show me?” Stiles asks, eyes wide and full of longing.

It is Peter’s turn to sigh before nodding. Peter doesn’t close his eyes, wanting to make sure his pup is not scared, as he lets the shift overtake him. It takes seconds and the entire time he feels scrutinized, until he is left standing in front of the little one in a more intimate way than he ever has been before.

Peter does not like the feeling.

“Yous not a werewolf.”

“I beg your pardon.” Peter says, barely refraining from gaping.

There is no hint of fear coming from his pup but a vague scent of disappointment. After the initial shock has worn off, Peter is absolutely delighted. His pup continues to surprise him and presents to Peter the most fascination he has had with any living creature in years.

Stiles raises a brow at him, all sass. “No ears, no tail means you are not a werewolf.”

Peter does not respond verbally but raises his hands and shows off his claws, grinning to show his fangs. His wolf is urging him to turn, show off for the little figure before them - wants _approval_. Peter would scoff at his other self if he were not also invested in his pups reaction.

“Are you very very strong?” Stiles asks, crossing his arms.

Peter grins and kneels in front of the little one. “Strong? Sweetheart, I’m so strong I could lift a bus.”

His pup’s eyes widen comically and Peter has to hold back a chuckle.

“Really?” The little one asks, awe in his voice.

“Well, not a bus but certainly a car.” Peter confesses with a wink. He is slightly disgusted with himself but the joy in his pup’s eyes is worth it.

Stiles toddles forward and the wolf makes sure to stay very still. A little hand reaches out to run a finger along one of his claws before the little one turns his attention to Peter’s face. Stiles’ hand shoots out quickly and though Peter has time to react, he allows the little one to run that same finger along his fangs.

Stiles lets his hands fall to his side as he gapes up at Peter. “Woah.” He whispers. His pup affects a serious look and Peter can truly say he is looking forward to what the little one is about to say.

“I believe you, Sir. You do love me.” He nods, as if confirming the validity of his own words before walking forward to give Peter a hug.

Peter sighs internally, one crisis dealt with, before wrapping his arms around the frail little body so trustingly relaxed in his embrace. The feelings growing in him for the little one, _his pup_ , would terrify those who knew him.

For if he razed the world once for losing most of his pack, what would he do to those wishing ill on his loved ones now that he has the knowledge and wherewithal to defend them?


	8. Getting Things Forcefully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have Mar to thank for me getting this chapter out as quickly as I have. This 5 minute writing challenge really spurred me on!
> 
> Also, Happy Star Wars Day! May the fourth be with you!
> 
> WARNING: There is some non-con/dub-con in this chapter. Scroll to the bottom to find out what. (NOTHING IN THE SEXUAL VARIETY)

Dinner was a quiet affair, Peter have rebuffed the packs wishes to come over. He had only been able to placate them by agreeing that they could visit the next day.

It was a small sacrifice to pay for being able to have his pup to himself after expending so much energy that morning. Though Peter felt like the continued appearances of Stiles meant the spell was slowly but surely wearing off, or Stiles was overcoming it, he really did not cherish the notion of never seeing his pup again.

Peter wanted his pup fully loyal to him before the little one left.

“Pup.” Peter called out to Stiles who was currently sitting on his balcony and reading a book - courtesy of Lydia. Peter was seated facing him, watching to make sure nothing happened, but now he wanted the little one’s attention.

He watched as his pup set aside his book, marking his spot carefully with one of Peter’s own bookmarks, and slowly got to his feet. There was a hint of fatigue pulling down the corners of Stiles’ eyes as he turned around to come back inside.

A slight breeze followed the little one inside, bringing with it Stiles’ smell. Peter took a deep breath and grumbled in satisfaction at the mixture of the two of their scents completely combined. In Peter’s mind, Stiles should always smell like that.

“Sir, your eyes are glowing.” Stiles said, rubbing at his own eyes. He stumbled towards Peter, looking slightly more alert than a moment ago. “Such a pretty blue.” He smiled.

Peter could not help smiling back. “Those are the sign that my wolf is close to the surface.” Peter explained. Now that he had told his pup he would answer any and all questions the little one had.

Stiles tilted his head to one side before tilting it the other way before mumbling. “Your wolf.”

That was all he said, Peter would know otherwise thanks to said wolf, but he still strained forward. “What was that, pup?”

“What is your wolf’s name?” His pup asked, eyes wide as he observed Peter.

Peter chuckled before responding. “Well, since my wolf is me, his name is Peter.”

Stiles frowned. “That’s not a very good name.”

Peter could not help the offended look that came over his face. “Excuse me?” He asked, left eyebrow raised.

“No, Sir, you’s Peter. That’s a good name for you. Your wolf needs its own name.” The little one nodded decisively. 

The wolf sat up, intrigued. Not that they were not the same being, because they were, they just had two very different ways of thinking and seeing the world. He felt as comfortable in his full shift as his wolf felt on two feet.

“Well then, I must bow to your superior knowledge. What will you name my wolf?” Peter asked, smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. His pup had his curiosity piqued, and a slight thrill coursed through him at the thought of being bestowed a name by his little one.

Stiles’ face squished in concentration. “I,” he paused. “I can’t see it. It would be easier if I could see your wolf.” He finished earnestly.

Peter sighed. “And I already told you, I don’t turn into a full-”

“You’re lying.”

The voice sent a chill down Peter’s spine. His eyes sought out those of his pup and he was greeted by the those of the spark.

Peter grinned. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because,” Stiles started as he got up onto his knees. He teetered for a moment before steadying. “I know what’s in here.” Stiles reached a hand forward.

Before Peter had a chance to react he felt a surge flare out from his chest where the little hand lay. A vacuum-like suction pulled inwards and held for a fraction of a second before rocketing outwards. Peter’s roar was lost in the chaos of what was happening to his body.

“Keep breathing.”

Peter latched onto the voice, trying to anchor himself to the sound. It soothed him as his body remade itself. At last the pain seemed to stop and Peter could breathe without it aching all throughout his body.

He lay there dazedly for moments, trying to absorb the fact that his spark had just forcibly changed him. Peter’s not sure if it was the suddenness of the act or the fact that it was not a full moon that was affecting him the most.

Small hands settling into his fur grounded him in the present. He blinked open his eyes and was not surprised to find delighted ambers ones twinkling back at him.

“Wolfie!” His pup laughed out, diving forward and wrapping little arms tightly around the wolf’s neck.

Peter allowed himself to enjoy the contact as he plotted how he would get Stiles back for this. That little act of his was _not_ how one went about uncovering secrets they wanted to know.

If the spark had merely waited until a full moon, and somehow managed to follow Peter without the older man catching him, then he would have seen Peter’s full shift. All without the dramatics as well.

A little kiss being placed gently to his snout snapped Peter out of his surly thoughts. His pup was the one in front of him, not Stiles, and his pup needed his full attention.

As the little one leaned back, Peter made sure to lick a wet stripe up his pup’s face.

“Eww, Wolfie, noooo!” Stiles protested as he tried to push Peter away.

The wolf let up and sat back on his haunches; the wolf and child observed each other.

The little one opened his mouth and shut it a few times before scrounging up his courage. “Can I brush your fur?” Stiles finally asked. “I’m really good at it! I brush Mommy’s hair all the time and she says I have the gentslests hands ever!” Stiles said, voice just below an excited shout and full of pride.

Peter nodded, tail wagging slightly and ears back, excitement ringing through his body at the thought of his pup grooming him. He lead Stiles to the bathroom and the little boy dug through the drawers until he found Peter’s brush.

Peter tried to get his pup to brush him in the bathroom but his pup was not having it. Stiles lead Peter to the living room and the wolf resigned himself to de-furring his carpet later.

For now, he just enjoyed the feeling of his pup’s hands carefully pulling the brush through his fur, and the chatty ramblings that reminded Peter of the Stiles he knew, and missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles forcibly turns Peter into a wolf. While Peter is okay with it, they did not talk about it before hand. Hence, non-con/dub-con.


	9. Chapter 9

If it were not for the fact that the transition had been forced out of him, Peter would have been more than happy to laze around with his pup. Unfortunately his pup was still that - a pup.

Transforming back was not easy and it hurt more than full moon transitions normally did. Peter was definitely going to have to talk to Stiles about that once he was back to his regular self.

Speaking of, the little one was currently reading his book which he had put down before Peter had called his attention away from it mere hours ago. Stiles had moved his book inside and was currently curled up on the couch with a look of fierce concentration as he read his picture book.

Peter was definitely not prepared for how cute little Stiles was turning out to be. It was making him feel things that he would really rather not feel - like this _need_ he had to protect his pup from everything that could potentially harm him and a happiness that had not been present in his life for quite some time.

It made Peter wish for the return of Stiles-the-older if only so that he could rid himself of these pesky emotions. Though, if he were being honest with himself, what he really wanted was a way to keep both the big and little versions of his favourite spark. Both presented challenges to Peter and he genuinely liked spending time with each of them - not that he would ever admit that aloud to the elder Stiles.

From his spot in the bedroom doorway - he had not wanted to transition in front of Stiles in case he accidentally upset his pup - it was easy for Peter to get lost in daydreams of corrupting the little human. He was so innocent and credulous, it made Peter literally _ache_ to mould him.

At the same time, however, Peter honestly looked forward to the snark and sass that Stiles gave him on a regular basis. It was a conundrum.

“Sir?”

Peter refocused on Stiles and frowned when he saw that the pup’s eyes were wide. Seconds later his wolf was at attention, focused completely on the little human sitting on the couch. The little one’s heartbeat was accelerating and the taint of fear was oozing from his pores. Peter was beside Stiles in the next instant, scooping him up and holding him tight.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” Peter ordered, his voice soft and even. He did not want to upset his pup any further.

Stiles gasped and grabbed at his chest. “My heart hurts.”

Peter frowned and concentrated on what the little one could not articulate - the elevated heart and scent he had already noted but there was something else, something that had his wolf whining. Peter almost felt anxious.

With all the unknowns surrounding how Stiles had come to be de-aged it meant there were too many probabilities that Peter could not account for. He was completely unprepared for any worst-case scenarios because he had never been in this scenario.

He knew of _no one_ whom he could call upon for information.

“I’m scared.” Stiles whispered up at him, eyes wide and watery. Peter figured some part of the older version was leaking through because there was no way that his pup would know what was going on.

And by going on Peter meant the conversion. He could not be sure, of course, but it finally seemed like the culmination of whatever spell Stiles had managed that had resulted in him de-aging.

Peter sincerely hoped that the de-aging process was being reversed because if anything happened, if he suddenly lost his pup _for good_ , he would not be held responsible for his actions. Already he could feel his wolf urging him to take Stiles to a safe location, hide him away and protect him from everything - even if that something was the spark’s own self.

Peter did not want to utter empty promises so instead he held Stiles tighter to himself. His pup tried to burrow into his chest, head tucked underneath the wolf’s chin.

Peter felt geared up to fight an enemy that was not there.

Stiles sucked in a harsh breath, his entire little body going rigid. Peter tried to pull back to see what was going on but whatever had immobilized Stiles seemed to have snatched Peter in it’s grip as well. They were frozen, a tableau of comfort, as the spark’s magic pulsed through them.

Peter felt like his ears were going to pop with the pressure when suddenly Stiles exhaled and the vacuum-like effect of the magic vanished from the room in a blinding flash. 

His awareness of everything but himself whitted out. Like a cleansing spring had grooved a path through his soul, Peter felt weightless and whole. He felt a healing spread through him, the taint of burning forever present in his awareness gone in the blink of an eye.

He could no longer taste ash in his mouth.

“Shit, that was one hell of a trip.”

Peter’s eyes flashed open - he had not even realized that he had closed them - and he looked to see Stiles sprawled across his lap. He looked none the worse wear, in fact there was a lightness - a softness even - that surrounded the spark’s eyes. Stiles appeared rejuvenated and refreshed.

It made Peter wonder if the same thing that had happened to him had happened to Stiles as well. 

“Sooooo.” Stiles grinned sheepishly up at Peter but made no move to get off the wolf’s lap. 

Peter made the decision for him by pushing Stiles to the floor. This - Stiles changing back suddenly - had not been planned for and Peter felt jittery. It was not an emotion he was used to and the urge to be rid of it was pushing at him almost as if it was a physical force.

“Wow, rude much?” 

Peter ignored Stiles and pushed to his feet, stepping over the spark and walking to the kitchen. He needed room to think, to breathe, _to plan_. Now was the time for damage control and planning for whatever Stiles could throw at him - which was admittedly an arsenal for which Peter was not sure he could fully protect against.

“Hold the fucking phone Peter. If you think I’m going to let you walk away after the last few days we just spent together you clearly need your head checked.” Stiles raised his voice, not that he needed to as they both knew Peter could hear him just fine.

Peter paused but did not turn around. “Whyever not sweetheart? I clothed you and housed you, cared for you. Nothing untoward happened. There really is nothing to discuss.”

Peter gasped slightly as strong fingers gripped at his waist. He had not even heard Stiles move.

“You were a very well behaved werewolf.” Stiles agreed with a whisper in Peter’s ear. “And I’d like to show my appreciation for that.” He nipped at Peter’s ear.

Peter held back the shudder that wanted to travel down his spine at the feel of teeth gently working at his lobe. “It turns you on that I did not molest your de-aged self? And they say I’m the one that’s deranged.” Peter huffed out. He was honestly not sure whether to be amused or shocked.

“I wanted to see what you would do.”

Peter broke out of Stiles’s grasp and turned around, eyes wide in disbelief and agony. “Thank you for thinking so highly of me.” He stepped back from the hands that reached out for him.

Stiles smirked, a dark thing that roused the wolf in Peter. “Don’t be like that Peter. I knew you wouldn’t touch me inappropriately.” He said as he stepped up to Peter and walked his fingers up Peter’s chest. “I wanted to see how much you would try to corrupt me. You were so very _good_ though, and I want to show my appreciation for it.”

Peter had never felt more bared to another being in all his time being alive as he did in that moment.

Stiles leaned in and tilted his head to the side, observing Peter. “So, what do you say?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thar be sex ahead!

For all that Peter lied and cheated, for all that he manipulated situations to his benefit, the one thing he always was was honest with himself. He could not very well go around corrupting moral purity without acknowledging his need to _corrupt_. So to have Stiles offering himself up to Peter on a silver platter, well, the werewolf is conscientious enough to know that he _wants_.

The spark had been unobtainable before and was now practically gift-wrapped at his feet. It was a temptation he would not deny himself. However, he was not going to make it easy on the little shit after Stiles had gone and pulled the wool over his eyes. No, that would be too easy and Peter never went down without a fight.

“What do I say after you’ve experimented on me and tried to see how far I would go?” Peter asked, a hint of fang showing. If he was going to mess with Stiles he was going all the way. “What do I say when you were getting your rocks off to the idea of me tainting your very impressionable younger self?” Peter snarled.

Peter took measured steps forward until he had Stiles backed up against the doorway. There was not one ounce of fear emanating from the spark but there was doubt. Peter enjoyed the thought of Stiles running through the calculations in his mind, the idea of that brilliant brain trying to pinpoint where the plan had gone wrong. 

Peter waited, mere breadths away from Stiles, to see what the spark would come up with. 

It was times like these that defined a moment. It was the culmination of a multitude of factors coalescing to a point that would forever alter the course of those involved. Sure Peter wanted to be with Stiles but, just as the spark had said earlier, he wanted to see what Stiles would do. It was heady, watching the decisions fly past those amber eyes. 

Peter would even admit to being aroused by it.

They two were of the same brand, never leaving things to chance and yet knowing that some things really were out of their hands no matter what they may want. The fact that Stiles had managed to hide, or rather cloak, this side of himself just impressed Peter all the more and he wanted to claim it.

“Well Peter,” Stiles finally spoke up, chin tilted just so. It was so very lovely and Peter knew that Stiles was playing it up. “I think you like that I played you. Sure you’re ticked that you didn’t figure it out but this-” And here Stiles groped Peter, eliciting a hiss from the werewolf. “Tells me that you liked it.”

Peter did not even try to stop the smirk that curled up the corners of his mouth. He was absolutely delighted.

“You always were the smart one, Stiles.” Peter grinned, all teeth, before leaning in to claim Stiles’ mouth.

Their kiss was reflective of them, both trying to gain the upper hand. They nipped at each other’s lips and licked into each other’s mouths. It was delicious but Peter wanted _more_. He broke off the kiss and went straight for the spark’s throat, sucking kisses into the skin bared for him. 

Stiles moaned, arching his neck to give Peter more access. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Stiles gasped out and it made Peter growl. He wanted to keep marking Stiles’s neck but at the same time he wanted to know why.

“Why now?” He asked as he pulled back so he could look Stiles in the eye.

Stiles smiling fondly at him was not the reaction that Peter had expected. “Well, someone was never going to make the first move because for as manipulative, wicked, and cunning as he is, there is still a shred of decency left in him. So that meant I had to step up and take things into my own hands.”

Stiles did not give Peter a chance to respond as his hands grasped Peter’s head and pulled him in for another kiss. This kiss was infinitely more gentle than the last and Peter swayed into Stiles, compelled to be as close to the spark as possible.

As they pulled back for air it was clear that what was happening between them was a lot more serious than either were willing to confess to. There would be time for speaking later though.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless you little shit.” Peter groaned out as Stiles once again rubbed at his cock. 

“All talk and still no action, does that mean I’m-”

Before Stiles could finish speaking Peter grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up. Stiles caught on quickly enough and wrapped his legs around Peter’s waist as the wolf carried him to the bedroom.

Peter could feel Stiles’s hard cock rubbing against his abs. He moaned at the thought of finally being able to get his mouth on it as he threw Stiles down on his bed. Peter stripped the spark of his clothes and took a moment to just admire the young man splayed out for him.

Stiles was not inactive as Peter took his fill, however, as the spark gripped his cock and started stroking himself as he watched Peter back. It was like Stiles was made just for him.

Peter quickly shed his clothes. He crawled up the bed and nudged Stiles’s hand out of the way as he took over with his mouth. Peter moaned around the length in his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the precome that was already leaking from the slit.

“Yes!” Stiles hissed, rolling his hips up and forcing his cock further into Peter’s mouth. The spark gripped at Peter’s hair and fucked Peter’s mouth. It was everything Peter wanted.

Peter deep throated Stiles’s cock, allowing the younger man to control the pace. It was heady in a way that Peter had not felt in a long time and he knew it had everything to do with the young man falling apart beneath him. Peter hummed as the cock hit the back of his throat and reveled in the yell that Stiles let out.

He went with the motion as Stiles pulled his head up and grinned at the completely dazed look that the spark was giving him. Stiles kept pulling his hair until Peter was lying overtop of him and they exchanged a messy kiss.

“I don’t have the patience to wait for you to prep me for sex.” Stiles admitted as he wrapped a hand around both their cocks. Peter reached down and gripped them on the other side, moving his hips into the motion of Stiles’s hand. 

Peter nodded, they could fuck later. Right then he wanted to come all over Stiles, have the spark come all over him - wanted their marks upon each other. He buried his face in the crook of Stiles’s neck and inhaled the sweaty scent of the younger man. He was so close.

Stiles’s heart was pounding, his gasping moans urging Peter on. He could feel his orgasm building, growled as it raced throughout his body. Just as Stiles groaned out Peter bit down on the vulnerable neck presented to him and came with a muffled howl.

Peter collapsed atop Stiles, revelling in the base mixing of their scents. He did not believe in perfect moments but this was _right_ in every way.

“Just so you know, I’m sleeping over.” Stiles said matter-of-factly. Peter snorted inelegantly into the spark’s neck.

“Not before you shower. I don’t want your little boy cum all over my sheets.”

“Oh, but I think you very much do.” 

Peter rolled off Stiles and gave him the stink eye before sitting up. He could feel the pull of sleep but he refused to sleep covered in cum. 

“Carry me.”

Peter raised a brow at Stiles. “You have two capable legs, carry yourself.”

Stiles pouted. “You would have carried _your pup_.” 

Peter growled and lunged for Stiles causing the younger man to laugh as he scrambled to get away from Peter. “You’re such a little shit.” Peter could not help but chuckle as he chased Stiles into the bathroom.

“It’s all part of my charm.” Stiles replied with a grin as he let Peter back him into the shower. 

They both jumped as Peter turned on the shower and they got blasted by the cold water but it warmed up soon enough. They were both busy reacquainting themselves with each other’s mouths though to really pay attention to the steam filling up the room.

Peter would not deny that he missed his pup but he would not trade the snarky, sassy little shit in front of him for anyone. And maybe one day Stiles would humour Peter and play pup for him but for now he just put all his energy into making Stiles forget his own name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. It's been a journey, that's for sure. This is the last real chapter, the next one will be an epilogue. I hope you've enjoyed the story!


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [Dena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste) for reading this over and reassuring me. <3

**_-The next day-_ **

Peter likes the little things in life just as much as he likes the grand things that take weeks to plan. So to wake up to Stiles’s mouth wrapped around his cock, well that is most certainly a little thing in life that he enjoys. The fact that it came about as part of a grand thing - the planning of which Peter will grill Stiles on later - well, the irony is not lost on Peter.

Stiles is good at it, clearly enthusiastic which delights Peter with the knowledge that the spark was likely gagging for Peter’s cock for quite some time to be so engrossed in it. He watches Stiles avidly and fucks up into the delicious mouth just to see Stiles gag. He gets a moan for his efforts and continues to fuck up into the pliable mouth until he’s coming down the spark’s throat.

All in all, it’s a fantastic way to be woken up. Peter allows himself to float in the euphoria of a good orgasm right until Stiles opens his mouth.

“So I called my dad and told him we’re dating.” Stiles gives him a shit eating grin.

Peter frowns and tenses. He should not be surprised - and really isn’t, more like annoyed that he did not anticipate this turn of events - that Stiles would continue trying to get one-up on him. That’s basically been their entire relationship up until, and including, this past week. 

“Did you tell daddy dearest that I fucked you six ways from Sunday last night too?” Peter retorts. He is not worried that the Sheriff will come suddenly barrelling into his house with guns drawn, they are all adults and actually know how to use their brains even if past experiences have spoken against that.

Stiles pouts. “No but he would like to do lunch sometime.” He crawls up Peter’s body until he can comfortably seat himself on Peter’s hips and leans down to claim the wolf’s mouth in a kiss.

Peter pulls back and opens his mouth to speak when a knock at the front door cuts him off. He groan then because he knows exactly who they will find stinking up the doorway.

“If we don’t answer do you think they will go away?” Stiles asked as he leaned down and hid his face in Peter’s neck. The wolf chuckled at that and wrapped his arms around the spark, holding him tightly for but a moment before letting go and pushing Stiles to the side.

Peter sits up and takes a minute to just enjoy the view that is Stiles naked and sprawled across his bed before getting up. The longer they make the pack wait the worse the knocking will get and the more their itty-bitty minds will start to think that Peter has done something nefarious to their precious little toddler spark - completely disregarding the fact that they left their most vulnerable pack member with Peter in the first place of course.

“You’re telling them you begged to be fucked by me, okay my little boy-slut?” 

Stiles huffed a laugh and followed Peter off the bed to get dressed. “And why is that?”

Peter stopped in the process of doing up his pants to give Stiles a look. “Because they are going to smell our mixed cum and come to the wrong conclusion. And I, for one, do not feel like cleaning up blood from my carpets today.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “We’re both adults Peter.”

“Yes Stiles, _we’re_ both adults. The rest of the pack? A bunch of emotionally stunted children playing at being adults, looking to prove themselves by always jumping to the wrong conclusions so that they can have the opportunity to fix the problem.”

Peter watched Stiles’s shoulders slump in acknowledgement of what Peter had just said. The spark nodded and walked over to Peter, pressing a soft kiss the wolf’s lips before quickly pulling on the rest of his clothes.

“Just don’t say anything stupid and we should get through this just fine.” Stiles said with a wink and a grin. His optimism made Peter want to get on his knees for the spark and show him how much he appreciated his reckless side.

Rolling his neck, Peter made his way to the door and whipped it open. The pack nearly fell into the room and he sneered at them. “Really now, you couldn’t use your senses to check that nothing untoward was happening in here?”

Except the werewolves of the pack clearly smelled sex in the air and their hackles rose. Peter stepped back and rolled his shoulders, not able to help the smirk that he aimed the pack’s way. He had been tense from the moment Derek had dropped the pup off at Peter’s apartment and was really itching to get some stress relief by teaching the imbeciles a lesson.

“Woah there, I think the wolves in the room need to put away the eyes and ears. Everything here is hunky-dory.” Stiles yelled out as he shoved Peter aside and face the pack. Scott was the first to react, an almost betrayed look gracing his face.

“Dude, why didn’t you call and tell me you were back to normal?” Scott asked, all wounded concern.

Peter rolled his eyes and was deeply amused that Stiles mirrored him. 

“Scottie boy, come on, you know you still would have come over _just to make sure_ that I was alright even if I had told you. Besides, I was a little busy last night and you would have ruined some pretty fantastic orgasms.” Stiles explained as he placed a consoling hand on the Alpha’s arm.

Scout’s bottom lip trembled in a most alarming way; Peter was glad that he was behind Stiles because he wanted no part of whatever bromance was about to spew from the Alpha’s mouth.

Scott pulled Stiles in for a hug. “Dude, I just--you know I love you. You’re my brother, I just always want you to be safe.”

Peter was gratified to see that while the pack seemed altogether displeased with the turn of events in his relationship with Stiles they were all keeping their mouths closed. 

“Yeah, yeah, dude I love you too. But, if I’m being honest, I kind of planned the entire thing.” Stiles told him, stepping back from Scott and rubbing at the back of his neck. The spark was sporting an ‘Eh, what can you do?’ look and Peter would be lying if he said he did not find it funny.

Lydia’s unladylike snort drew everyone’s attention. “I should have known, Stilinski. You’re stupid for a genius but not that dumb.”

Stiles shot her a weak grin and shrugged. Really, for all of the schemes that the spark had concocted throughout the years, it was not the most ridiculous - though it was the most convoluted. 

“Yeah, well, what else would have caught this idiot’s attention?” Stiles rebutted as he pointed a thumb in Peter’s direction. Peter snarled at being called an idiot but Lydia spoke up before he could respond.

“Many different things including, but not limited to, just telling him.” She scoffed and turned on her heel. She was clearly done with the conversation. “Now that we know you’re being willingly molested, I have no need to be here. Derek come on, you’re driving Allison and I to the mall.” Lydia said as she walked out the door. Just before she was out of sight she threw one last remark over her shoulder. “I am glad you’re alright Stiles.”

Allison nodded and mumbled her agreement with a smile before following Lydia, Derek shaking his head and leaving behind the ladies. The rest of the pack filed out one by one, Erica winking and giving Stiles the thumbs up, until at last it was only Scott left.

He looked torn and it really made Peter want to step forward but he weighed that against Stiles likely blowing him again later if he scratched up the spark’s best friend and decided against it. Some things just were not worth losing orgasms over.

Peter turned away from the two and headed for the balcony. He wondered if he could convince Stiles to let Peter fuck him outside. The thought kept his attention until he heard Stiles walk up behind him and then he was altogether too distracted by Stiles shoving him down onto the chaise lounge to think of anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is the true end. It's been such a blast writing this story and I sincerely hope that you have all adored the story as much as I have. <3 
> 
> ~ M

**Author's Note:**

> I will be updating the tags as this goes along. I've rated it Mature for future chapters. Let me know what you think!


End file.
